From The Ashes
by Archon's Voice
Summary: Significantly AU - The initial landing of the 100 goes horribly awry leaving Clarke alone. Now three years after the fall she is forced to navigate her way through the omnipresent dangers of the ground and the intrigues of its denizens but where will her loyalties lie at the end?
1. Prologue

A/N - After getting fed up with the mess that season three has turned into since about episode 3 (Pike, Blood will not have blood, Bellamy's face heel turn, 307 etc. etc.) I decided to turn my hand to a bit of writing. Rather than picking up from the end of season two or somewhere within season three I thought I would take the story into a completely AU direction from the beginning.

Some warnings on the tin before we begin: The ground is more cosmopolitan than what we see in the show. Original Characters will crop up periodically. The plotline of the series is NOT going to be respected. Some main characters from the show will die(Not Lexa obviously). The main action will take place three years after the landing. The story will unabashedly focus on Clarke and Lexa.

I will endeavour to keep the A/N's short and sweet from now on. Updates (hopefully) every weekend.

Blanket Disclaimer - The 100 and characters/locations associated with it are not mine and reside under the copyright of CBS.

Prologue – Fiery The Angels Fell

"Earth, Clarke. You get to go to Earth."

It was the last thing she remembered before slipping into the black nothingness of a drugged sleep. The jolt of the drop-ship's separation stirred her roughly back to consciousness. The acrid vapours of the hundred year old air scrubber system, the collected humanity of the other prisoners, and the trace fumes of the ship's fuel system all conspired to make her headache into a full blown migraine. As the scene swam into view the fear began to claw its way up into her throat. They were really on their way to Earth. Making matters worse her fellow prisoners were all chattering merrily as though they were on a field trip and not on their way to execution. A sharp pain from her wrist seized her attention as she noticed the metal bracelet that had found its way there as she had slept – no doubt a parting gift from the powers that be on the Ark.

"Welcome back." It was her one time friend, the chancellor's son Wells. She frowned at him in confusion.

"Wells, why the hell are you here?" She demanded.

"When I found out they were sending prisoners to the ground I got myself arrested."

 _That's almost romantic,_ Clarke thought to herself.

"I came for you." Wells punctuated that comment with one of his silly smiles that he imagined to be winning.

 _Scratch that, nauseating._

A bump shuddered through the ship as it began to skip across the upper atmosphere. As Clarke opened her mouth to question what was going on she was interrupted by the soft voice of the Chancellor.

"Prisoners of the Ark hear me now. You've been given a second chance. And as your Chancellor it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you but as a chance for all of us, indeed for mankind itself. We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better we would have sent others. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes make you expendable."

 _Expendable indeed._ Clarke mused to herself. _Kill two birds with one stone; decrease the burden on life support while scouting out the ground for future habitation_.

Jaha continued on despite the catcalls that greeted his assessment of the prisoners. "Those crimes will be forgiven and your records will be wiped clean."

Clarke tuned out at that particular moment because it reminded her all too well of the elder Jaha's winning way with words. His ability to twist them to convince people to support the death of their peers had always sickened her. The sacrifice of innocents was something that leaders seemed to do with an almost giddy abandon. Speaking of the innocent, several of the prisoners had freed themselves from their restrains and were floating about the cabin, giddily ignorant of the impending return to gravity.

Clarke was about to open her mouth to yell at them when the ship bucked fiercely. A sharp metallic shriek echoed throughout the cabin as gravity returned sending the floating prisoners slamming into the walls of the ship.

"The parachutes!" Wells shouted over the groaning of the ship. "They haven't deployed."

He was right. The ship was falling too fast. He was out of his seat before Clarke could move to stop him and down the ladder to the lower level a moment later. It was a miracle he was even able to move with the erratic movement of the drop ship. As Clarke moved to follow him she was slammed into her seat as the parachutes deployed. The other prisoners were screaming in terror as the ship began to slow. Smoke began to suffuse the cabin as the stress of the re-entry began to rupture the pipes and conduits that formed the vessel's internal plumbing. Another couple of moments later and the retro-rockets ignited with a deafening roar. All Clarke could do was grit her teeth and hold on to her restraints as the dropship screamed through the sky. She couldn't stop herself from whimpering softly in fear, so sure was she that this was the end.

Everything stopped with a horrific crash. The ship groaned a few more times as it settled and the hull began to pop as it cooled. Clarke opened her eyes, blinked, and let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in. They had landed and they were all mostly still alive. Something was wrong though – the dropship still seemed to be moving which made almost no sense to Clarke. Clarke slowly undid her restraints as some of the other inmates began to climb down onto the lower level. As Clarke was taking stock of the situation she heard the first shouts.

"WATER!" The first shouts were surprised more than panicked but it didn't take long for the panic to set in.

Clarke was in motion before she even had time to think. If the ship was flooding then it was painfully obvious that they needed to use the escape hatch at the bow of the ship rather than the main doors. Clarke waded through the panicking delinquents to the ladder and the hatch. Already there were one of the surviving spacewalking prisoners and a dark haired man in a guardsman's jacket.

"Well, well, if it isn't the princess from solitary." The guardsman drawled as he worked the hatch open. "Women and children first?"

"Can it." Clarke snapped nervously. "How are we going to get everyone out of here?"

"One at a time." The guardsman snorted as he shoved the hatch open and climbed out. The spacewalker was right behind him. Behind her the crowd of other prisoners boiled towards her like an advancing army. It was only sheer luck that the strong arms of the two others plucked her out through the hatch before she was trampled.

Standing on the top of the sinking dropship Clarke got her first look at Earth – or rather her first look at fog. It was a miserable slate grey fug that surrounded the dropship. She could barely even see the water surrounding them. Looking around Clarke's heart sank into her boots as she surveyed the situation around her.

"Are you going to just stand there and look miserable or are you going to help?" The guardsman shouted at her.

Clarke spun around. "What do you need me to do?"

"The compartment on the other side, it should have a life raft. You get it opened and launched. I'll send some more people over to help you when we get them out." The guardsman's tone was commanding but he seemed to know what he was doing.

"What about Wells?" Clarke yelled over her shoulder.

"The Chancellor's son?" The guardsman sneered. "Forget him."

"He saved our lives!"

"I'll look for him when we get the rest out." The spacewalker interjected before the guardsman could say anything more.

Clarke nodded reluctantly as she set to work pulling open the panel that held the life raft. Following the instructions on the thick plastic container she wound one end of the line around her wrist and rolled the container into the water.

While luck was on Clarke's side as the plastic container burst open and inflated into a large octagonal raft luck wasn't on her side when it came to the length of line that had been attached the raft. In fact the line didn't even come close to stretching from the sinking dropship's top to the water below. The end result was that as the raft had made its journey to the water Clarke had been in hot pursuit.

As she came up spluttering for air some of the more dimwitted prisoners had gathered on the side of the dropship to laugh at her. As she flailed in a miserable attempt to keep herself from drowning she grabbed hold of the line that was still wound around her wrist. Pulling on the line she was able to haul herself towards the raft with a minimum of swimming.

 _We're going to make it._ Clarke was thinking to herself. _We're actually going to make it!_

How wrong she was. The designers of the dropship had originally intended the vessel to make a hard landing on the ground and therefore had not designed it to land on water. Being that it was commonly known to engineers that shit does in fact happen they had decided to design with safety in mind and made the dropship so that it could at least _survive_ a water landing. What they had not counted on was for it to be used over a hundred years after its best before date. While the prisoners had been desperately trying to escape the water had been pouring into every empty space inside the drop ship. The designers had never intended for the inside of the cabin to become partially submerged in water and had therefore been quite sanguine about using potassium superoxide air scrubbers to replenish the atmosphere inside the dropship. The unfortunate by-product of mixing the two elements was an impressive pyrotechnic display or to the poor souls on the dropship a big explosion.

Clarke was just turning around when the dropship exploded sending her, the raft and most of the survivors perched on the hull flying. The pressure of the explosion seemed to pick her up and sent her skimming across the surface of the water. As she crashed into the water she was completely disoriented. It was like being plunged into an icy darkness that seemed to attack her every sense. She flailed desperately in the murky depths as the water began to steal into her nose and mouth. Against all odds she came rocketing back to the surface – still connected to the life raft.

Wearily she managed to pull herself back on to the raft. Flaming pieces of debris continued to rain down from the sky as she looked around her but of the dropship itself there was no sign. She was alone at sea on a world that was barren of life.

Clarke tried calling out to the point that she shouted herself hoarse hoping to hear some sort of response but the only sound she could make out was the ringing in her ears. Eventually she gave up and curled in on herself in a desperate attempt to hold on to the last embers of her own body heat. She lay there shivering for what felt like an eternity, drifting, and alone.

Clarke was almost catatonic when they found her. She thought that her mind was playing tricks on her when the raft shook from an impact. Licking her salt cracked lips she looked up from her fetal ball. The first one climbed rather awkwardly from his boat onto the life raft. The man's appearance practically screamed danger from the black beret perched on his head down the rest of his obsidian uniform to the rather intimidating looking rifle slung on his back. Clarke stared at him dazedly as though he were some sort of apparition, a trick conjured up by her own feverish mind.

The soldier muttered something in a guttural tongue which caused his comrades back in the launch to break into laughter. Without any concern he reached down to grab Clarke, ignoring her feeble attempts to bat his hands away. With a practiced ease he slung her into the waiting arms of two of his fellows. Climbing out of the raft he swiftly punctured the rubber hull with a wicked looking bayonet. One of the soldiers wrapped Clarke in a blanket as the rest bent their backs to rowing the launch away. Clarke simply huddled under the blanket. It was all too much for her mind to comprehend.

Despite the efforts of the helmsman at the rear of the launch to get her to say something she remained mute until the launch reached its destination. The black iron hull of the warship heaved itself out of the surrounding mist like some sort of improbable black wall sitting in the middle of the ocean. The launch bumped up against the hull with a dull clang as the soldiers set themselves to work hooking onto the mooring lines of the warship. A particularly burly specimen of soldiery slung Clarke over his shoulder and proceeded to ascend the ladder to the ship. She hung on for dear life as he climbed – not so insensate as to lose her instinct for self preservation.

As soon as they reached the deck he deposited her rather ungracefully in front of his crewmates.

"Pусалка" He laughed to his fellows. They greeted his comment with a nervous titer of laughter.

Clarke stared at them blearily as she swayed backwards and forwards. The faces of the men and women of the crew looked back at her with a nervous mien as though they half expected her to sprout fangs and make an attempt at devouring them.

The crowd shifted as another group of soldiers elbowed their way through the throng of sailors. At the heart of this phalanx was without a doubt their commander. The woman commanded the attention of her subordinates with an easy grace. Everything from her striking navy blue uniform to the sword that she casually rested her arm to the angry crimson mass of braids that made up her hair seemed purposefully engineered to convey a single message – I'm in charge and don't you dare forget it.

She studied Clarke with a sympathetic eye taking in the rather waterlogged Sky Girl before her. Clarke reciprocated by examining the stunning specimen before her. The woman was easily in her mid-thirties and sported a rather vicious looking dueling scare across one eye while the other was adorned with a stylized half sun tattoo. Her eyes were a pair of restless green orbs that were always on the move – as shifting as the sea that was her element.

It didn't surprise Clarke at all that she tried English first when she spoke to her. "Where do you hail from little mermaid?"

Clarke blinked at her half in surprise and half in relief. The commander seemed about to try another tack when Clarke responded in a dull voice, scarcely above a whisper. "The Ark."

A series of hushed whispers ran through the crowd in the foreign tongue. One of the sailors started yelling something from the back and soon it was taken up by her fellows.

"Fallen Angel."

The commander held up her hand to still the chant. "What's your name fallen angel?"

"Clarke."

"Well Clarke, we have a saying about what the sea gives us." The commander purred. "She is a capricious mistress but when she grants you her favour do not doubt her."

"What do you mean?" Clarke asked doubtfully.

The commander looked almost disappointed as she explained. "It means welcome aboard, Clarke."

A/N - Oh Dear, it seems all the delinquents are dead except for Clarke, or are they?

Pусалка - Mermaid(Rus)


	2. Chapter I - Tack to Windward

**A/N** \- In future notes will typically go at the end of the chapter so as not to spoil the plot.

 **Chapter I – Tack to Windward**

3 Years After the Fall, South of Mt. Weather

 _Three years since the fall._ Clarke groaned inwardly. _Three years on Earth._

The anniversary of her fall to Earth and consequently her birthday was the one particular day of the year that Clarke loathed above all others. Keeping time on Earth was a tricky business at the best of times but out of some perverse sense of duty Clarke kept a count of every day she had been on Earth just so she could take one day to remember the Ark.

It had been a long three years and if Clarke was honest with herself she had been awfully lucky – although most days the dead seemed like the lucky ones. She had been adopted – quite literally – by the leader of one of the many disparate factions living in the ruins of the Eastern Seaboard. The Ship Clan or Tseekru as their less advanced rivals referred to them were descendants of the sailors who had been lucky enough to be at sea during the apocalypse. In a manner similar to the crews of the Ark they had banded together and scavenged enough resources to keep their little floating community together. After many decades of pure subsistence the fleet had homed in on a radio signal in the ruins of Norfolk. No-one had ever dared to believe that they would find anything beyond a few wayward survivors but what they did find had bordered on the miraculous. Norfolk had been in nearly pristine condition with not a soul to be found anywhere. The area had been almost completely cut off by a suspiciously arbitrary chain of nuclear strikes that had created a desolate nuclear no-man's land. With a secure base and the remains of their pre-war technology intact the Ship Clan had set to work on arduous task of rebuilding civilization to their own standards.

Inevitably, as with any expanding civilization, they developed a hunger for raw materials but their efforts had met with frustration at the hands of the other survivors of the atomic fire. Through a combination of diplomacy, intrigue, intimidation, and outright war they had become a powerful and reclusive force on the post-apocalyptic landscape. Despite this, the Ship Clan could neither seize control of the resources it needed nor could it simply withdraw behind its impenetrable walls of radiation so instead it became the middle man of post-apocalyptica. Its vessels ran food and other raw materials up and down the coast line making them a necessary evil for the other tribes.

Clarke's watery landing was seen by the largely spiritual ranks of the Ship Clan as being a good omen just as the discovery of Norfolk had been. The Miral as the Ship Clan called their leader, Mara, had been just as willing to embrace the sign and had become Clarke's patron within the clan.

It had been far from easy for Clarke though. At first she had devoted herself to trying to find any sign of the other one hundred prisoners but despite the best efforts of Ship Clan there was no trace to be found. After that Clarke had turned her attention to making contact with the Ark itself and again Mara had humoured her in this pursuit. Once again their efforts had met with failure. In spite of all the advanced technology that the Ship Clan had preserved nothing could punch through the radiation laced atmospherics and the mysterious jamming field that surrounded Mt. Weather.

In the end Clarke could only watch helplessly as the dozen falling stars of her home had plunged to Earth six months later. She had grieved and she had compartmentalized that grief so that she could survive. In the end she came to accept her survival on Earth as a gift and set herself on a path to see as much as she could of the Earth while at the same time trying to pay back her immense debt to her adoptive family. This decision had led her into the ranks of the Outriders, a group of scouts that were half diplomat and half operative. They almost always operated alone in their single minded task of protecting the interests of the clan. The Outrider's training itself had been gruelling but it had been just the challenge that Clarke had needed to take her mind off her loss. After a year of training and six months of field work under one of the more experienced Outriders Clarke had been turned loose in the boreal forests of the seaboard lands to carry out her duties.

Now she was on her way back home after an abortive negotiation with one of the Trikru villages south of Mount Weather. As usual the rumours of the elusive and mysterious Tseekru had arrived long before Clarke did and she was greeted with the typical mixture of skepticism and distrust. In the end the clan leader had equated her with the group of bogeymen the local Trikru liked to use to scare themselves – the Mountain Men. Given that no-one in the Ship Clan had ever seen a live Mountain Man they were dismissed as being a fairy-tale used to explain away the periodic chemical leaks that came from Mount Weather. All the same all of the Outriders gave the Mountain a wide berth.

Clarke gave her horse, Vestri, a fond pat as the two plodded onwards towards Clarke's safe house – an old pre-war bunker built into a cliff face. While Vestri's mind may have been on the oats and warm barn she was looking forward to Clarke's was firmly on the bottle that would be her companion until she fell into a dreamless sleep later that night. Every year this day would herald the return of all the shades of her past who would emerge from her memories to taunt her with what she could have done differently to save them. The only relief would come in the form of the black nothingness of unconsciousness. There was no doubt in her mind that she loathed her birthday.

Clarke's grim musings were interrupted by the tell-tale clang of steel on steel. Clarke sat up straight in her saddle as the sound came again. Casting around for its source Clarke was only confronted with the dappled greens of the sunlight filtering through the forest canopy and the otherwise quiet forest floor. Vestri had noticed the sound as well and snuffled nervously. Clarke eased her forward in the direction of the sound. The sounds grew in volume as they approached the head of a small U shaped valley. Further down the valley the source of the sound became apparent. A group of Trikru soldiers were heavily engaged with a pack of Reapers. The marauding barbarians weren't known to raid this far south so it made the situation unusual in Clarke's mind.

Steadying Vestri, Clarke pulled her spotting scope from one of the pockets of her coat. The melee came into gory detail as Clarke focused the scope on it. The Trikru were badly outnumbered as the berserk Reapers hacked them down. Reapers were notoriously hard to kill and the other outriders had speculated that they had access to some sort of drug that suppressed their pain centres. Regardless of the why the Trikru would soon be wiped out.

Clarke groaned to herself as she dismounted. She had no particular love for the Trikru – they seemed to enjoy hunting her for sport whenever she entered their territory and it didn't matter how many she killed they just didn't seem to take a hint – her problem was that as soon as the Reapers finished with the Trikru party they would start casting around for other nearby prey and she had no desire to find herself on their dinner menu.

Clarke unslung her rifle from its position across her back. The rifle along with the rest of her combat gear had been a gift from Mara and it had served her well. Matte black and deadly accurate with its scope it was the perfect tool for equalizing a situation at long range. Clarke flipped out the bipod and settled the rifle onto a nearby rocky plateau. Going prone on the plateau she worked the bolt and settled herself for the task at hand. It was always painful work to use the rifle since inevitably it meant that someone was going to die. In this case it was something of a relief since the Reapers were so vicious and inhuman that killing them was almost a community service. Clarke picked out her first target, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.

The report of the gunshot startled the dozen remaining combatants. The Reapers were the first to recover and took the opportunity to brutally kill two of the surprised Trikru soldiers. Two of the other Reapers turned towards Clarke's position and began to advance towards her. Clarke lined up the first and dropped him while he was still a fair distance away. The second one advanced at a run straight for her. He hit the ground in a boneless heap moments later as the report from Clarke's rifle echoed through the woods. Turning her attention back to the melee Clarke observed with some irritation that the remaining Reapers had managed to finish all but one of the Trikru. The remaining Trikru warrior was an impressive young woman who held off the three remaining Reapers with a not inconsiderable degree of alacrity.

Clarke settled back to work as she dropped one of the remaining Reapers. The shots were getting more difficult to make now that the other two were so closely engaged with the Trikru warrior. Clarke snarled to herself as her next shot went wide. Mentally berating herself for being too cautious when it came to the Trikru she snapped off another round – another miss.

 _What am I doing?_ Clarke wondered to herself as lined up the Reaper in her sights and squeezed off another round. He fell with a short scream. _Why am I being sucked in by a pretty face?_

The last remaining Reaper managed to get the drop on the Trikru warrior and got in under her guard slashing viciously across her back with his sword. Clarke's heart jumped into her mouth as she saw the young woman fall. Hastily lining up her last shot she let fly. The final Reaper dropped.

Clarke considered her handiwork through the scope. It had been a massacre, another one at her hand, but at least it had been a virtuous one.

 _At least as virtuous as saving my own skin._ Clarke mentally chided herself.

Clarke dusted herself off collapsed her rifle and slung it over her shoulder. She looked down at the battlefield, considering whether or not she should even bother going down to look it over.

 _You know she may still be alive down there._ Clarke's traitorous inner voice reminded her. It sounded suspiciously like her conscience. _Are you going to let another person die on today of all days?_

Yes, she was adept at pushing her own buttons when it came to these types of situations. Grumbling to herself she hurried over to Vestri and grabbed her field kit. Retracing her steps Clarke wound her way down the cliff side into the Valley. Picking her way over the corpses she came up short as she confronted the fallen warrior. The slash was a nasty one and the blood trickled blackly from the wound. Taking a moment to consider what she was looking at Clarke did a double take. The young woman's blood actually was black. In her short time on the ground she had run into an impressive array of mutations but never once had she encountered someone with black blood. She was almost afraid to touch it but at that moment the young woman moaned softly in pain. It was clear to Clarke that with a cut that deep that the woman would die – not of the wound itself but from infection or from one of the numerous predators that inhabited the woods.

Clarke knelt down and pulled her field kit open, most of the medicines inside she had brewed herself and over her time on the ground she had become quite the herbalist. It also didn't hurt that she had had plenty of practice on her favourite patient of all – herself. Pulling out a small pot of pure alcohol she doused her tools and bandages. While grounders were generally ignorant of the dangers of infection Clarke wasn't. As Clarke was about to start cleaning the wound her patient came violently awake and started up from the ground. Scrambling away from Clarke her green eyes scanned the ground for a weapon.

"Maunon!" She hissed angrily.

Clarke sighed and shook her head. She simply remained where she was kneeling and waited for blood loss to take effect. The young woman really wasn't much threat to her, despite her apparent martial prowess, in her current condition. As Clarke suspected the woman swayed dizzily a few times and collapsed. Clarke sighed again, dusted herself off and relocated to where the woman had crashed into the ground. Surprisingly enough she was still awake and tried to squirm away when Clarke tried to roll her over.

"Shhh." Clarke soothed. "I'm just trying to close your wound. It's alright right."

The woman seemed to still under her touch, whether from a willingness to trust Clarke's words or simply from exhaustion she couldn't say. Clarke slowly began to clean the wound of the black blood that oozed from it. The woman hissed in pain as the alcohol soaked dressing came into contact with the wound site.

"I'd offer you something for the pain but I get the sense you wouldn't take me up on the offer." Clarke's only response to her offer was angry snarl. At least she knew that the woman could understand her.

Clarke hummed soothingly as she worked to infuse the wound site with a combination of herbs formulated to stop infections and decrease the inflammation. Continuing on she worked to temporarily suture the wound closed. At some point during the entire operation her patient finally gave into the pain and passed out with a soft sigh. As Clarke finished bandaging the wound she congratulated herself on a job well done.

 _That just leaves you with the girl to deal with_. Her inner voice chided. _You know if you leave her here she'll be as good as dead._

Clarke winced as she realized that the only way to make sure the young woman survived was to take her home. She was already counting off the ways that it could go horribly wrong as she heaved the sleeping woman up and set off back towards her horse.

A/N - Some notes on the preceding chapter: The chapter name refers to sailing terminology involving turning the ship's bow through the wind to change course. In more general terms it means a hard journey(since you can't sail directly to destination) or a circuitous path to your end goal. How this relates to Clarke I'll leave you to decide.

The Ship Clan draw their inspiration to a certain degree from the backstory of Fallout's Brotherhood of Steel although they are less technofetishistic. In general I would envisage their technology level as being largely industrial revolution in nature - steam engines, iron, low grade steel, etc. smattered with some advanced technology from the Pre-war period such as firearms, precision optics, radios, left over nuclear weapons etc. I'm sure you've guessed the identity of Clarke's patient but if you haven't done worry - every even numbered chapter will be told from her perspective. For a visual representation of what Clarke looks like think of her appearance at the end of 309. The ark isn't dead, Clarke just thinks they are.

Feel free to point out any spelling, grammar, or missing word errors in the text. I will do my best to correct them promptly for readability's sake.


	3. Chapter II - A Reversal of Fortune

Chapter II – A Reversal of Fortune

Lexa groaned as she drifted back to consciousness. She had been having a very pleasant dream involving a lullaby, a beautiful green forest, and rather pretty blonde who for some reason reminded her of Costia. Bizarrely enough a group of Reapers had also been sleeping in the glade along with her and the blonde and the blonde had been busily sewing. Lexa shot upright as she realized that it hadn't been a dream. There had been a battle, there had been Reapers, and there had been a blonde who had sewn up her wounds.

She immediately regretted her precipitous actions as the world canted and dipped to one side and her back came alive with pain. Easing herself back onto her bed Lexa tried to will her world to stop spinning. As things gradually came into focus she began to make out details of her current abode. An oil lamp cast the whole room in a warm orange as she made out the pre-war furnishings all around her. A medicine cabinet and the scent of antiseptics and herbs seemed to suggest that she was in an infirmary. A warm, woolen homespun blanket was draped over her bearing the designs of the Sandkru.

Lexa took a few deep breathes as she eased herself up into a sitting position – easier said than done with a nasty sutured gashed in her back. Still it wasn't the first time she had fought through an injury. As the blanket fell off her she noticed that her captor had deprived her of her clothes and armour, leaving behind only a set of light linen pyjamas. Getting out of the bed slowly she padded over to the door and tried the handle – locked of course.

It was a widely held misconception amongst those with more technology than the Trikru that they were backwards savages – a misconception that the Trikru themselves did their best to perpetuate. Lexa was perfectly versed in how to pick a lock if a bit out of practice. Casting around the room she swiftly rifled through the cabinets and eventually came up with a fine scalpel and a pin. The lock itself wasn't particularly complicated and after a few abortive attempts it came unlocked. Lexa held onto the pin and scalpel as she gently eased the door open.

The infirmary gave onto a narrow tunnel which had all the hallmarks of an Old World bomb shelter. Lexa had raided several in her younger days, before she had begun her arduous training to become the Heda. Turning left she paused for a moment and cocked her head to the side. There was the unmistakable sound of music floating through the air. The piece itself was mellow and sorrowful and the faint overtones of a singer drifted through the air. Lexa had not heard artificial music in years and then only once when her teacher had shown her an antique Old World device that used a crank and a black disk to produce a few distorted notes of artificial music. It had been nowhere near as complex or crisp as what she was now listening to.

As Lexa padded down the passageway she gripped the scalpel tighter. The music meant that she was the captive of one of only two groups the hated Maunon or the equally dangerous Skaikru. True there had been rumors of the technological prowess of the Tseekru from the South and the fools' tales of the City of Light but the Tseekru had never ventured this far from their ships or their protected bastions and the City of Light was just a myth told by the drifters that occasionally washed up inside Trikru territory.

The passageway gave onto an open space which seemed to serve as a living area. To one side was a small cooking area with a wood stove burning peacefully, its fumes being evacuated up through a chimney in the ceiling. On the other side of the room was a small living area which had been converted into what seemed to be a small altar. At the centre stood a bonsai tree and above it hung a set of charcoal drawings of people that she had never seen before. It looked to Lexa like some sort of altar set up to venerate the dead, and set up in a hurry judging from some of the haphazard arranging of objects around the bonsai tree. Before the altar stood a single high backed arm chair and unfurled from the chair was single limp bare arm. A soft sob was clearly audible over the mournful music.

Lexa shifted unconsciously as she realized that she had intruded into a deeply personal moment. She pushed down her feelings quickly as she realized that no matter how human the person sitting in the chair was they were still her captor. To compound matters the music offered Lexa the perfect opportunity to strike undetected and quickly gain the upper hand also negating the disadvantages her injuries would inflict in a prolonged fight. So the cold calculus of her options made her decision for her. Lexa glided, wraithlike, towards the oblivious figure swallowed up in the chair hoping to incapacitate if possible and kill if necessary.

The music suddenly came to an end and Lexa came to an abrupt halt. Another, distinctly feminine, sniffle came from the chair in front of her as her captor showed no signs of moving. Softly advancing on the chair Lexa did her best to remain silent. Whether out of some sixth sense that she was being watched or from sheer luck the woman in the arm chair poked her head around the side of the chair to look behind her. Lexa was rooted to the spot as the other woman's puffy, tear streaked, blue eyes widened as she saw what had been lurking behind her. The colour drained from the other woman's face as she stared at Lexa and then at the scalpel in Lexa's hand. Her terrified blue eyes darted towards a table to the side of the room, Lexa followed her gaze as it landed on a blunt and very menacing looking revolver that sat innocently on a side table. The blue eyes darted back to Lexa and Lexa could see the other woman tensing to make a run for the weapon.

Years of experience had allowed Lexa to predict where and how the other woman was going to move and she was launching herself towards her just as she leapt from her chair and made a vain dash for her sidearm. Lexa's impact sent both of them tumbling in a tangle of limbs but Lexa's superior reflexes allowed her to quickly gain the upper hand and in moments she had the other woman face-down in a chokehold. The woman's desperate clawing at Lexa's arm soon ceased as Lexa efficiently blocked off the woman's carotid arteries. Releasing her carefully Lexa took the opportunity to pick up the pistol and withdraw to a safe distance.

The other woman wheezed and coughed as she regained consciousness and she slowly levered herself into a sitting position and pulled her mess of blonde braids into some semblance of order. She stared at Lexa with an anger born of the realization that she was completely helpless.

"I'm betting you don't even know how to use that." The woman rasped as she gestured to the revolver.

Lexa smirked as she flipped the safety catch off and aimed the weapon away from her prisoner and fired. The report was deafening and the other woman jumped as the bullet thudded into the floor near her. All trace of cockiness had just been erased and while she still looked angry there was a good deal of fear accompanying that emotion.

"Now," Lexa began. "You are going to find some rope and tie yourself to one of those chairs."

The other woman shot Lexa a withering glare as she got up very slowly and backed away from Lexa. "I don't keep rope on hand in my living room."

Lexa was having none of it. "Use your clothes."

The other woman stared at Lexa and then sighed. She shrugged off the light linen housecoat she had been wearing and, with a regretful sigh, began tearing it into strips. Dropping the now ruined housecoat she plunked into her chair with a weary grunt and wound the material around her ankles. Making the binding fast she proceed to one hand and then, with a surprising amount of dexterity, bound her free hand around the arm of her chair and made it fast with a sharp jerk from her teeth. Staring back up at Lexa she glared at her warily. Lexa for her part let out a sigh of relief as she pushed a chair around to face her prisoner and settled into it. Her wound had begun to ache but it was a testament to the other woman's skills as a medic that it had not sprung open.

"I am going to ask you some questions." Lexa began. "You are going to answer me honestly. If you don't the consequences could be severe."

The other woman stared at her coldly as though trying to preserve what was left of her dignity.

"What is your name and clan?"

"Clarke, of the Tseekru." The other woman responded curtly. Her eyes drifted over to the bonsai tree for a moment before returning to stare at Lexa.

In that instant Lexa knew that she was already lying about something. The decades of past life experience that the commanders before her had imparted left her an adept judge of people's tells and she could tell that Clarke was lying about something.

"I don't believe you." Lexa snapped.

"I don't care what you believe, it's the truth." Clarke shot back.

"I warned you that there would be consequences if you attempted to lie to me!" Lexa retorted angrily.

"What are you going to do? Kill me?" Clarke laughed. Lexa knew from the weary way that the other woman had greeted that possibility that she had faced death before and it no longer held any power over her.

Lexa rose from her chair in an instant and hastened out of the room leaving a stunned looking Clarke behind her. Retracing her steps to the infirmary Lexa quickly rifled through the jars of powders and ointments until she found what she was looking for. The jar itself was neatly labeled with _Black Henbane_ which unlike its pre-fallout parent had mutated several interesting properties. Returning to the living area Lexa found Clarke staring at her in confusion.

"I take it you know what this is?" Lexa asked harshly as she showed Clarke the jar.

Clarke eyed Lexa suspiciously as she nodded. It was clear from her look that she knew the mutated Black Henbane enjoyed use as both a deadly toxin with symptoms approximating madness to a highly potent truth agent. It induced a kind of waking sleep that made the recipient highly suggestable but could also easily lead to hallucination, paranoia and madness if the recipient's psyche was not sufficiently robust. The danger of the compound lay in getting the dose just right so as to avoid sending the recipient into irreversible madness. Given that Lexa knew little enough about herbs and medicine she had already calculated that she ran a better than average chance of getting the dose catastrophically wrong.

Turning her back to Clarke she strode over to the kitchen area and began to root around for a spoon, drinking vessel and water. Working slowly and patiently Lexa waited for Clarke to make the next move – cunningly playing on the other woman's fears.

"Do you even know what you're doing with that?" Clarke asked, a faint note of worry creeping into her voice.

"Not exactly, but in the past it has been used to satisfactory effect to extract information." Lexa replied casually as she stirred the powder into the water. "It was a pity that the subjects all died or went mad but the information they provided was worth it."

Lexa set down the spoon and returned with an earthenware mug full of the potent mixture. Clarke continued to regard her skeptically as though trying to gauge whether or not she would carry through on her threat.

"You only need to tell me the truth Clarke and I won't have to use this." Lexa stated simply. "To what clan do you belong?"

"I told you this already," Clarke replied in exasperation. "The Tseekru. I'm one of their scouts."

Clarke wasn't the only one who was irritated and Lexa let her anger show as she kicked Clarke's chair backwards. Clarke had only moments to brace herself as the chair toppled backwards taking her with it. In a moment Lexa was on her reaching for her nose to clamp it shut prior to forcing the black mixture down Clarke's throat. Clarke twisted out of Lexa's grasp desperately, her fear written clearly across her features.

"Stop!" Clarke pleaded as she desperately shied away from the potent mixture. "Please, tell me what you want to know. I'll answer."

Lexa paused momentarily to study the squirming woman below her. Her reactions were far from in keeping with the relatively defiant woman she had fought earlier that evening or the hardened scout that had saved her life. Something wasn't adding up.

"Why are you so terrified of this?" Lexa asked softly. "The threat of death didn't seem to worry you."

Clarke refused to meet her gaze as she answered softly. "I've had it before. I don't want to go back there."

Things began to click into place for Lexa as she realized that this woman harboured demons that she had no desire to confront. The altar that she had set up, the portraits, the unopened bottle of moonshine on her kitchen counter – it all amounted to someone on the run from the shades of their past, someone trying their best to forget about the people they hadn't saved. It was a feeling that Lexa was all too familiar with and in that moment she felt a pang of sympathy for her captive. Setting the mug of Henbane aside Lexa hauled Clarke's chair and its occupant back upright.

"Alright Clarke, you can start by telling me about the altar and the pictures."

Clarke was hesitant as she began, still refusing to look at Lexa after what had just happened. "They're pictures of my parents and my friends. I drew them to remember them."

"They are dead now?"

"Yes."

"What happened to them?"

Clarke licked her lips as she seemed to consider her next words and for a moment Lexa was almost worried that she would need to threaten her again with the Henbane but Clarke gathered herself and continued. "I know you're not going to believe me when I say this but they all died falling from the sky."

Contrary to Clarke's comment Lexa could believe it easily, she knew well of the life that lingered in the night sky above them. "Go on."

"I was sent down here three years ago with one hundred others – prisoners from our home." Clarke explained slowly. "We landed in the water near the lands of the Floudonkru. I managed to escape our ship but before the others could it exploded."

Clarke seemed to choke up at this point but she steeled herself as she continued. "My best friend, Wells, died that day. He died thinking that I hated him for the death of my father."

"How did your father die?"

"He was executed for reasons that are now trivial." Clarke snorted derisively. "He tried to save all of them and they paid him back for it by killing him but in the end they all died anyway."

"What happened to your people?" Lexa probed.

"They ran out of air or they burned up on re-entry" Clarke snapped, her anger bleeding into her voice as she seemed to fight to keep herself from crying. "Either way they're dead and I'm the last one left."

Clarke trailed off as she stared at the ground before her. "That's why I'm not afraid of dying but I am afraid of going back to that waking nightmare." Clarke finished softly.

Lexa sat back in her chair, while Clarke's story was tragic it was also wrong. The poor naïve Skai girl thought that she was the last of her kind while Lexa desperately wished for that to be true. The Skaikru were mostly very much alive and very much a thorn in Lexa's side. The Maunon she could deal with but the fall of the Skaikru to earth and the ensuing military debacles in trying to wipe them out had been costly. Now with questions surrounding the value of the coalition that she had worked so hard to forge and doubts swirling around the strength of her leadership she was left with the unpalatable option of another unending cold war with a force equivalent to the Mountain Men. Her only way out of her current predicament was to negotiate a settlement with the Skaikru and to focus their attention to the Maunon in hopes that they would mutually annihilate or be so weakened that they would never again threaten her people. Against all odds she had been given the perfect asset – a grief stricken Skai girl who, if the rumours of the diplomatic skill of the Tseekru scouts were to be believed, could help her build a bridge between her people and the Skaikru.

A/N - Lexa's a devious one alright. Black Henbane is a relative of deadly nightshade and is quite poisonous. It's used today in the formulation of scopolamine (amongst other things) which was used as a truth agent and can lead to some extremely unpleasant hallucinations. For the purposes of the story Henbane has since mutated to induce near permanent madness (if given improperly) and yes Clarke has had it before during her time on the ground. I'm interested to hear what people think of the two main characters. Are they believable given their different circumstances? Anything patently unbelievable?


	4. Chapter III - Weighing the Situation

Chapter III – Weighing the Situation …

Clarke groaned as she stumbled over another loose outcropping of ground. It was certainly demeaning to be beaten so soundly in one's own home but it was doubly demeaning to be dragged along behind one's own horse. This was, unfortunately for Clarke, exactly the position she was in. She actually didn't mind the fact that her patient had soundly defeated her, had the roles been reversed Clarke would have done the same thing, but what she objected to was the fact that she had been taken like some sort of trophy and was now being dragged back with the woman to be paraded in front of her barbarian friends.

The thing Clarke was trying her best not think about was that gross invasion of her privacy that the other woman's interrogation had amounted to. Going over her past had left her feeling emotionally ravaged and had opened up wounds she had been living with for years. Throughout it all her patient had been oddly considerate, giving her the time to proceed at her own pace and not forcing her to proceed when she hadn't wanted to, it had almost been like a form of therapy for her. True her interrogator had been relentless in her pursuit of the truth – in a slow and methodical kind of way – but at the same time she had seemed oddly sympathetic. The entire experience had left Clarke feeling confused and nauseous.

At the end of the day Clarke reasoned that it was all a cunning interrogation tactic designed to take advantage of Clarke's compassion and try to get her to feel for her captor. She heard of these types of cases before but experiencing it first hand was something else entirely. The whole experience coupled with the acute symptoms of sleep deprivation had left Clarke dead on her feet.

She narrowly missed falling face first over another loose root as her captor gave her line connect her bound wrists to her saddle a gentle tug. Clarke gazed up at the other woman and found herself being considered again by those intelligent green eyes. The interrogation hadn't been wholly one-sided, during the entire experience Clarke had learned a great deal about the other woman from her mannerisms and subconscious ticks. Everything about her captor's demeanour and the way she carried herself seemed to scream apex predator but getting closer to her had allowed Clarke to observe a softer side. While most would have drugged her without compunction the other woman had paused and relented indicating that she seemed to have a human side or that she was cunning enough to realize that there were other ways to achieve her ends beyond brute force – perhaps both. There was also something alien about the other woman – the way she seemed to constantly study Clarke as though analyzing every inhalation of breath and infinitesimal facial twitch for hidden meaning.

Following the conclusion of their impromptu interrogation session her captor had raided her home for provisions and clothes, given Clarke one of her old overcoats and a pair of boots and pointed her towards the ladder leading out of the bomb shelter. At least she had been kind enough to extinguish the lamps and the power so that Clarke's home wouldn't burn down while she was gone. Taking Vestri, Clarke's horse, Clarke had been ignominiously forced to follow on foot. Shivering through the early-morning chill she had cursed the other woman silently. By mid-morning anger had given way to fatigue. Now in the early afternoon she was on her last legs. She had not said a word to her captor the whole time – too foolishly proud she guessed.

The uneven path produce yet another hidden rock and this time Clarke went face first into the hard earth of the trail in front of her. Try as she might she could not lever herself up off the ground and eventually she gave up and collapsed on to the hard earth. Moments later her captor was gently helping her off the ground and settling her down against a tree.

"Drink." The other woman commanded as she shoved Clarke's stolen canteen into her hands.

Clarke drank carefully knowing that given her current state drinking too quickly could have unpleasant side effects. The other woman nodded briskly in approval.

"Why?" Clarke asked softly. "Why are you giving me water?"

"I don't believe in mistreating my prisoners." The other woman responded simply.

"That explains why you dragged me halfway to Polis without a break or water." Clarke responded ruefully.

"If you had needed to rest you only needed to ask." Her captor rejoined smartly.

Clarke was left momentarily speechless. She had suffered because of her own preconceptions about her captor. She quickly seized the opportunity presented by her captor's openness to bombard her with more questions.

"What's your name?"

"Lexa."

"Wait, wait, Lexa as in Heda Lexa of the Trikru."

"Yes." The other woman couldn't quite supress a smile at how Clarke's face fell at the revelation. "Do not feel too badly. It is a great honour to be bested by the Commander of the Twelve Clans."

"Not from where I'm sitting." Clarke sighed. "Well it makes a lot more sense now."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Clarke gestured to her bound hands. "You were captured by a member of another clan. The only way you can avoid losing face is if you bring the person who captured you back to face justice before your court."

"You are remarkably perceptive, for a simple scout." Lexa replied critically. "Unfortunately your theory fails to take into consideration other explanations for my behaviour."

"Oh?" Clarke responded coolly.

"Perhaps I was simply lonely and desired a fresh face to warm my bed?" Lexa said in a complete deadpan.

"You wouldn't."

"If I recall correctly you're my prisoner and you did assault my person."

"I saved your life."

"You imprisoned me against my will."

"I kept you safe."

"Regardless you committed two grievous crimes under the laws of my people which makes your life mine to do with as I see fit." Lexa concluded perfectly seriously.

"I'd sooner die."

"That can be easily arranged. Although I must confess to being somewhat surprised that would be your choice."

"You won't even get a chance to carry through on that threat and we both know it."

"Oh?"

"The Tseekru have an embassy in Polis and their ambassador sits among your council despite not being a member of your coalition. After all we carry much of your seaborne trade. Without us you would starve in winter."

"You exaggerate but do continue."

"Regardless, I will be seen when you sentence me. A private audience will be demanded by the Tseekru. Terms will be struck and I will be set free. You will profit from a new favourable trade arrangement and I will end up with the worst assignments for years to come not to mention being a laughing stock amongst my fellow Outriders. That is as far as it will go though."

Lexa laughed. "I'm impressed Skai girl. Are you a prophetess?"

"No."

"We have spent enough time talking for now and we still have far to go." Lexa concluded briskly, her face carefully recomposed into her emotionless mask.

Clarke sighed as she handed her back the canteen and hauled herself back to her feet while Lexa gracefully remounted Vestri. Clarke almost didn't notice when she held her hand out for Clarke to take. She looked up questioning at Lexa.

"Unless you want to continue walking?" Lexa queried drily.

Clarke took Lexa's hand levered herself up until she was sitting just in front of the other woman. Vestri tossed her mane irritably but the addition of a second rider didn't really bother the massive warhorse.

"If you make the slightest wrong move Clarke you will be back to walking." Lexa warned as she wrapped her arms around Clarke to grasp the reins.

Clarke nodded wearily and settled herself for the long ride to Polis. Before long she was fast asleep.

Clarke was jostled awake as Vestri came to a halt. It was already early evening but the twilight allowed her to make out the gates of Polis. Looming out of the gloom was the massive tower of the Commander that stood like Polis' silent guardian. Atop the tower burned the sacred fire – a beacon and some said the embodiment of all the Commanders that had died before Lexa. Clarke had never been to Polis but she had been briefed on the city as part of the training that all the Outriders received.

"Clarke, you will need to dismount." Lexa said. "You understand that this is for appearances' sake."

Clarke slide off of Vestri and looked up at Lexa for a moment. "Lexa, why are you going so far out of your way to look out for me?"

"Blood not spilt demands repayment in kind" Lexa replied cryptically. "When you enter Polis, do not make eye contact with any of the warriors and address me only by my title. If you show the slightest bit of disrespect it will go very badly for you."

As Clarke was nodding her reluctant assent a voice from the wall called out to them. "Chon yu bilaik? Haukom yu kamp raun hir?"

"Ai laik Heda Leksa." Lexa shouted back to the gate guard.

"Heda?" The guard seemed to gasp. Clarke could just barely make out his nervous face peeking over the wall but she could definitely tell that he was nervous. "Uf au!"

As Clarke was smirking to herself at how the grounder had gone from commanding to so completely cowed Lexa gave the rope connecting them together a sharp jerk as if to remind Clarke that she wasn't any better off. The gate itself creaked open revealing a small crowd of warriors some of whom were carrying burning torches. The whispers were rampant as Lexa rode into Polis managing to look surprisingly regal atop a stolen horse wearing Clarke's stolen clothes. Clarke fixed her gaze to the path ahead of her trying her best to look suitably cowed.

 _I'll play your game for now Lexa if only to see where this mind of yours is leading me._

The warriors shifted uneasily around the two of them as though sensing that Clarke was somehow responsible for Lexa's disappearance and her lack of an escort. Clarke knew it was a dangerous situation and was already tensing up at the threat of impending violence. Fortunately the Trikru were more disciplined then their unruly appearances would at first suggest and most of them seemed more relieved that their Heda had returned to them. The entire journey through the city passed without incident until they reached the gates of the Commanders' tower. A bald man in grey robes bearing a multitude of intricate tattoos on his bald scalp stood there waiting expectantly for Lexa along with an entourage of what Clarke suspected to be her councillors.

"Heda, we are all pleased to see you returned to us safely." The robed man exclaimed. Clarke got the impression very quickly from him that he wasn't one for small talk. "There have been many rumours surrounding your disappearance. What happened to your guards?"

"Killed to a man, Fleimkeepa." Lexa replied. "Ripas."

"And your prisoner?"

"She is of the Tseekru – one of their scouts. She fought the Ripas."

"In the cowardly ways of the Tseekru no doubt."

 _How dare you call me cowardly when you look like you've never faced combat in your life._ Clarke seethed inwardly.

"Of course. Still she did help me defeat the Ripas."

"Then how does she come to be your prisoner?"

"She tried to take me as her prisoner." Lexa replied coolly. "I was forced to show her the errors of that decision."

"Quite true Heda. Jus drein jus draun." Titus opined proudly.

 _Of course it would all boil down to an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth._

"Take her to my chambers and convene my council. I intend to pass judgment on this Tseekru scout." Lexa commanded.

Two of the guards were swift to seize Clarke and frog marched her into the tower. During the rapid trip through the tower the only points of note Clarke remarked on were the scores of grim faced guards that populated the edifice. Getting out was going to prove very challenging. After a quick trip up a rudimentary elevator the guards escorted her into a set of opulent rooms which Clarke guessed to be the Commander's quarters.

While she was considering the room around her one of the guards took the opportunity to kick her legs out from under her. Clarke collapsed graceless to the ground and before she had a chance to move one of the guards seized her by the hair and dragged into a kneeling position. As soon as he released her and before she could restrain herself she turned face him defiantly. A swift backhanded blow was her reward. As she crashed back down to the floor again sporting a broken lip she realized that she had had enough of playing along with Lexa's ruse. One of the guards was busily laughing as the other one loomed over her. Rolling onto her back Clarke sized up her opponent quickly noting that he favoured one leg over the other. Aiming a precise kick at the guard's weak knee she sent him toppling forwards. Moving quickly she was on him in a moment with the bindings on her wrists tight across his throat. Predictably his friend moved to assist his downed comrade and as he moved to attack Clarke's back she rolled to the side taking her immobilized victim with her. The other guard overbalanced and toppled forward as his strike connected with empty air. As the guard choked for air Clarke quickly took advantage of his incapacity to release him and yank his sword from its scabbard. In a moment she was armed once more and on her feet. Nimbly spinning the blade she severed the bindings around her wrists and prepared to face the two guards.

"Em pleni!"

In all the confusion, Clarke and her two guards had failed to notice the arrival of Lexa and most of her entourage. Now Lexa stood neatly framed between the two doors into her chambers fuming with rage.

"Drop the sword Clarke." Lexa commanded shortly.

Clarke glanced down at her two guards and then back up at Lexa before throwing the weapon to the ground with a disgusted look and kicking it back towards the guard that it belonged to.

"Heda, the Tsee girl is dangerous." A dark skinned woman interjected from behind Lexa. "She should be executed now or at least locked up."

"Shof op Indra." Lexa growled as she pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation.

"Heda I agree with Indra." Titus added. "The Tsee girl is a danger, she has already made an assault on your person. Now she assaults your guards. These crimes cannot be ignored."

"Titus, I value your counsel but you shall mind your place, lest I put you in it permanently."

"Yes Heda." Titus seemed to shrink away from the Heda who by this point positively radiated anger.

"Indra, discipline the guards. They have no excuse for being bested by bound prisoner. Everyone else out." Lexa ordered.

"But Heda, the Tsee girl." Indra tried.

"Em pleni! Gon we!" Lexa snapped.

The entourage of guards and advisors seemed to collectively slink away under the force of Lexa's ire until Clarke and Lexa were left alone in her quarters. The doors slammed shut behind Lex signalling that they were alone once again.

"That was an exceptionally stupid thing you just did Clarke." Lexa sighed as she walked towards Clarke.

"I draw the line when people start to take liberties with me, _Heda_." Clarke snapped back.

"This leaves you in a very difficult position now."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"My council will now be less likely to trust you and concordantly less likely to want to let you live." Lexa explained.

"Lexa, I don't even begin to claim to know why you have any interest in letting an orphaned Skaikru cum Tseekru scout live but we both know that your council would have been baying for my blood regardless of what I did. The affront to the person of the commander would have been reason enough for them to want to punish me and, from what I've heard of your people, imprisonment isn't something they would favour."

Lexa let out another long sigh as she turned away from Clarke. "You are unusually perceptive when it comes to the internal workings of Polis and unfortunately quite correct."

Lexa turned back to face Clarke and her face was transformed from irritated to deadly serious. "Hear me now Clarke, if you want to live through what comes next then you must follow my instructions to the letter."

Clarke considered for a moment. While she couldn't trust Lexa the Heda of the twelve clans had gone out of her way to try and keep Clarke alive. It was safe to assume that Lexa wasn't doing all of this for any reason as simplistic as a sense of duty to Clarke for saving her life. This could only mean that Clarke was valuable to her for some other reason which in turn meant that Clarke had some leverage over the Heda.

"Lexa, before I even consider agreeing to whatever you are going to propose I need to know one thing. What do you hope to gain from keeping me alive? What is it about me that makes me valuable to you?"

Lexa studied her astutely for a moment before answering. "Why don't you tell me what makes you unique amongst all the other Outriders of the Tseekru."

"The fact that I fell from the sky?"

"Correct."

Clarke shook her head at that. "Lexa, how is that even valuable to you? The people of the Ark are all dead. Aren't they?"

Lexa cocked her head at Clarke before wetting her lips to respond but Clarke cut her off. "No, no, no." Clarke stuttered as she divined what Lexa was about to say. "I saw the dropship explode. I watched the Ark burn up. They can't be alive."

"Your people are very much alive." Lexa responded simply.

Clarke scarcely heard her as she struggled to breath. The ghosts she had lived with for three years weren't really ghosts but they were alive. The Ark must have managed a soft landing during the re-entry. Her breathing became increasingly erratic as she struggled to cope with her new reality. She was stirred from her trance by Lexa giving her a firm shake.

"Clarke, focus." Lexa ordered. "Focus on my voice."

Clarke managed to bring Lexa back into focus with a great deal of effort. "How?"

"The detonation of what you call the 'drop-ship' brought the Floudonkru fishing fleet down on your friends. Many were pulled from the water still alive."

"What happened to them."

Lexa released Clarke and turned away from her. "They were integrated into our society as servants as are our customs when a tribe is destroyed."

"Slaves more like." Clarke spat in contempt. "I know enough about Grounder culture that nothing comes freely."

Lexa turned back to Clarke her face hard and impassive. "I will not apologize for our culture to you. They have had a fair life. Once they reach five years of service they will be freed and integrated into whatever cultures that they now serve. Some have already integrated and have started families."

"Families?" Clarke asked skeptically.

"Yes, but they are not the problem. The ones from what you call the Ark landed six months after we had taken the survivors of the drop-ship. They emerged from the wreckage of their ships and set to work claiming the land for themselves. The council and I viewed them as a hostile force and tried to drive them from our lands."

"Let me guess, that didn't go so well did it?" Clarke replied snidely. Her earlier shock giving way to anger as she discovered that Lexa had been trying to exterminate what was left of her people.

 _If you can even been called one of them anymore. Look at yourself Clarke, you are as much grounder as Lexa now._ Her traitorous inner voice interjected. _But then again righteous anger is so much easier than considered thought, isn't it?_

Lexa was reluctant when she answered. "Your people are resourceful and they are located near the Mountain. We dare not raise a large army near the Mountain lest they call forth the acid fog on us."

"Those are excuses Lexa. What we're dancing around is the fact that you attacked the Skaikru and were soundly defeated."

"Several times." Lexa added hanging her head in shame at her failures.

"I still don't get where I fit in Lexa." Clarke said harshly.

"Clarke, I need someone from the Skaikru to help me negotiate a peace between our peoples. You are an outsider and the only one who has any hope of building a bridge between our peoples.

Clarke felt something crawling up her throat and as much she fought to keep her composure she couldn't help herself as she burst into manic laughter. Lexa's face fell as she watched Clarke's reaction.

"You. Want. Me to negotiate a peace?" Clarke said between wheezing bouts of laughter.

"Yes Clarke."

"Even if I wanted to help you Lexa, which I don't, have you looked at me? If my people looked at me they wouldn't see Clarke Griffin anymore, they'd see a Grounder – the enemy." Clarke paused for a moment as the full realization struck her. "Oh my god. What have I done? All those years hiding in the forest while my people were slaves. What am I now?"

She sunk down to her knees as the manic laughter gave way to the great bubble of guilt and self-loathing that threatened to strangle her. Sobs shook her body as she faced the truth of what she had done, somewhere very early along her path it had become easier to turn her back on her past and her pain. In doing so she had become blind to signs which might have told her that her people were still alive. All the years only letting the loss and pain out only on her birthday came back to her with a fearful vengeance.

Lexa was there, beside her carefully rubbing her back as she struggled to ride out her emotions.

"Clarke," Lexa began softly as her grief subsided. "I know I may be your enemy now for what I have done to your people but you need to listen to me now. You did what you needed to do to take an impossible situation and survive."

Clarke shook her head mournfully. "I could have done something … anything. I'm a coward Lexa."

"No Clarke. There was nothing you could have done then but you have the chance to do something now, something meaningful to your peoples' lives. Help them. Help all of us to leave this long night of war and bloodshed behind us. Help me make peace with them."

Clarke sucked in a deep breath. "If I do this, if I even can do this, then I need your promise that you will release all my people. They are of the Ark and they deserve to be with their families again."

"I will release all that want to go Clarke." Lexa replied sincerely.

Clarke turned to Lexa and stared at her with red rimmed eyes. "I also need you to know that if you betray me or play me false then there is no action I will not take, no path I will not tread, to make you pay. Jus drein, jus draun."

"I understand Clarke."

"Then tell me what I need to do."

A/N:

Trigedasleng Translations

Chon yu bilaik? Haukom yu kamp raun hir? - Who are you? What are you doing here?

Ai laik Heda Leksa - I am Heda Lexa.

Uf au - Open up.

Em pleni - Enough.

Shof op Indra - Shut up Indra. (A running joke.)


	5. Chapter IV - Before Making a Move

Chapter IV – Before Making a Move

Lexa was comfortable ensconced in her throne once again one leg casually crossed over the other as she pretended to listen to one of the ambassadors make a vain play for increasing the weight of his vote in council meetings simply because his people provided the majority of the food for Polis during the cold winter months. The ambassador finished his speech and took his seat once more and the other councillors resoundingly voted down the proposal. Lexa fought down a yawn as she gave a curt nod to indicate that she approved the results of the vote.

"That leaves us with only one further piece of business – the matter of the Heda's prisoner." Titus intoned solemnly.

Lexa gestured to the guards to bring in the prisoner and tried to keep herself from fidgeting anxiously. There were so many things that could go wrong, so many things that could keep her from realizing her goal of peace between the twelve clans and the Skaikru. An end at last to the hated Maunon was finally, distantly, in sight.

Clarke was led in flanked by two guards. She had changed into the warrior's garb Lexa had given her – a short woolen coat and leather leggings completed by a pair of leather riding boots. She stood somewhat defiantly before the assembled council.

"We are here to hear the case against the Heda's prisoner – Clarke kom Tseekru." Titus continued. "She stands accused of attempting to imprison the Heda of the twelve clans and of assaulting two of the Heda's personal guard. Both are grievous charges. Are there any mitigating factors?"

"I will speak on the accused's behalf." Lexa said, rising from her throne. "While I do not dispute the charges the accused did save my life by killing a number of Rippas and by tending to an injury I received on the battlefield."

"Clarke kom Tseekru, is this true?"

Clarke nodded her assent.

"So noted. Does the accused have anything she wishes to make known before the Heda renders judgement?"

Clarke advanced carefully forward before sinking to one knee before Lexa. "I wish only to say that my intent was only to save the life of a member of the twelve clans and never to hold her against her will. It was certainly never my intent to hold captive the Heda of the twelve clans and for my unknowing transgression I humbly beg forgiveness."

Clarke bowed her head as soon as she had finished.

Lexa allowed herself the appearance of considering what Clarke had said before speaking up. "Very well Clarke kom Tseekru. I am satisfied by what I have found out about you that you speak true and I have counted this in your favour. Nevertheless, you committed a crime against the leader of the Trikru and example must be made. Bearing this in mind I sentence you to one year of service to the twelve clans."

Clarke exhaled almost noiselessly.

"I also know that while your allegiance lies to the Tseekru now it was not always so." Lexa continued. "You were born into the Skaikru before they fell from grace to the ground."

A furor of whispering erupted from the seated councillors.

"Since you know the Skaikru better than any others in this room and since you have the vaunted skills of a Tseekru Outrida it would be a pity to waste you in menial labour and therefore I grant you a singular chance. Swear your loyalty to me and I will grant you the privilege of serving as my envoy."

A very pregnant silence greeted Lexa's words as the entire council seemed to hold its breath.

"Ai badan yu kiln Heda Lexa kom Trikru. Ai swega yu klin na gouba raun bilaik yu gafen laik ai gafen." Clarke intoned solemnly in Trigedasleng.

Lexa was impressed. While she had coached Clarke on what to say she had never expected the resourceful Skai girl to swear fealty in Trigedasleng.

"We have all witnessed Clarke swear fealty to the Heda and we shall all hold her to her words." Titus added, reverting back to English.

Lexa motioned to one of her guards who stepped forward to present her one of the red side cloaks that all of her closest guards and advisors wore. She held it out to Clarke who rose and took the cloak before sinking back to one knee.

"Missari Clarke you have been judged. You are now free to carry out the will of the Heda. You may go." Titus finished.

Clarke rose and bowed curtly to Lexa before retreating from the chamber. Lexa returned to her throne this time fighting hard to prevent a satisfied smile from plastering itself over her lips. The council was doubtless shocked by the fact that Lexa had shown mercy to the Skai girl and that she had so swiftly elevated her from a bound servant to an office that enjoyed a degree of respect and power. They would doubtlessly be even more perplexed by how Lexa had gotten a member of the Tseekru to agree to serve her willingly. While they were busily pondering what other hidden assets Lexa possessed they would be defanged, allowing her the freedom she needed to conclude the peace between the twelve clans and Skaikru. Step by step she was moving closer to her goals, now all she had to do was keep Clark under control.

The council meeting wound up later that evening and Lexa was almost surprised to find Clarke patiently waiting for her outside the council chambers when she remembered that Clarke really had nowhere else to be.

"Missari."

"Heda."

"Walk with me."

The two fell into an awkward silence as Lexa led the way back to her quarters. Dismissing her guards Lexa led the way into her chambers. As Clarke entered she seemed to size up the rooms before settling into one of the chairs in the outer room with a sigh.

"Well done Clarke." Lexa said as she poured water into a pair of glasses.

"I believe the credit goes entirely to you _Heda_." There was a hard edge to Clarke's voice as she took the glass that Lexa offered her. It was understandable to Lexa but it also let her know that she had a long way to go before she convinced Clarke of her motivations. Without Clarke's unwavering support she had almost no chance of convincing the Skaikru to talk peace. If she ever did get to the point of negotiation with the Skaikru she would again be depending on Clarke to provide her with insight into the mindset of the Skaikru.

Lexa sipped her water and considered Clarke just as the other woman stared back at her as though sizing her up. "Now that you are my Missari …"

"And just what does that mean?" Clarke interrupted

"You are familiar with the Gonasleng term emissary?" At Clarke's nod Lexa continued. "Same thing. As I was saying, you are now presumed to be one of my representatives which means that I alone am responsible for you. Before you ask this is not a license to do as you please Clarke. You are still subject to our laws."

"Harsh laws to be sure."

"It is our way. If you are quite done being critical then we can proceed to the important matters?" Lexa asked rhetorically. "I want you to act as my representative to the Skaikru in ending the ongoing war between my people."

"That simple?" Clarke asked seriously.

"Hardly. I want the Skaikru to use that technology that they so jealously guard for themselves to help me bring down the Mountain."

"Lexa are you absolutely certain that these Maunon of yours really exist? Has anyone actually been into the Mountain?"

"Oh yes. No one has returned from the Mountain but they do go into the Mountain. The Ripas we have killed have been identified as once being members of the twelve clans."

Clarke settled back uncomfortably at this revelation. "What makes you think that there are people other than these Ripas in the Mountain?"

"While the Ripas are mindless savages the Mountain has reached out to strike at us several times. They used a weapon that I believe you would call a 'cruise missile' to destroy an entire village. On other occasions near the Mountain their soldiers have been spotted garbed entirely in a greenish material and wearing masks."

"Radiation suits." Clarke supplied. "They must be vulnerable to the environment outside of the Mountain."

"Regardless the Maunon do exist and they have been a blight on the land ever since the rain of fire." Lexa concluded. "They must be wiped out for peace to have any kind of chance."

"This is all well and good but I don't see why the people of the Ark would agree to help you especially after you've been at war with them since they landed."

"That's where you come in Clarke. I need to understand what motivates them."

Clarke snorted. "Getting to back to Earth _was_ what motivated them. Now your guess would be as good as mine."

Lexa sat down opposite Clarke with a sigh. "Did you have any family beyond your Father left on the Ark as you call it?"

"My mother." Clarke swallowed.

"What do you think your mother would give to see you alive again? What would you give to see her again?" Lexa asked shrewdly.

"What kind of question is that Lexa?" Clarke began angrily until Lexa held up her hand to still her ire.

"I meant no offense Clarke. For us family is second to duty. We love our children just as you love yours but all of us know that death may come at any time and we all must do our part to hold it at bay. Death is a part of our lives and we are prepared to accept it."

"That's an awfully fatalistic way of looking at the world."

"You cannot live a lie Clarke. Reality must be confronted."

"What are you getting at Lexa?"

"When a prisoner is taken by the Maunon or by another clan they are presumed dead as soon as they are captured. If they are freed it is seen as a blessing but we will never sacrifice the many for the few or the one. From what I have observed of your people they look upon every life as being one and the same to the many. They will exert themselves to feats of heroism in pursuit of the slimmest chance of saving one of their own."

"You sound like you admire them."

"They have admirable qualities, yes. Within every strength lies a weakness though."

"Not when it comes to protecting your people."

"On that we agree. Take yourself for example. Your first instinct on learning of your people's survival was to work for their freedom. What I need to know is whether or not your leaders would follow your example. Would offering up the lives of the prisoners to the Skaikru be enough to create peace? Would your leaders honour such a bargain?"

Clarke rose suddenly and walked to Lexa's balcony. Lexa could hear her taking a deep breath. "I want to say that they would be willing to make peace for the lives of the prisoners. I want to tell you that the leaders of the Skaikru could be trusted."

"But?"

"Reality must be confronted."

Lexa felt her face fall.

"The prisoners were sent to the grounder on a one in a million chance that they may be able to survive. They didn't just send one person to see if it was safe, or a probe, they sent all of us knowing that we may die horribly." Clarke spoke softly without turning from the balcony. "We were … expendable. We will always be expendable because that is the only way our leaders know."

"Victory stands on the back of sacrifice."

"Tell that to the mothers mourning their sons and daughters."

"I do."

"Then that is why you do not understand the Skaikru, Lexa. Their culture is alien to yours."

"Clarke, if the Skaikru leaders cannot be trusted then how can we ever make peace?"

Clarke turned her eyes catching the candlelight. "We go to the people."

"I do not understand."

"The people of the Ark have the power to influence their leaders. If we return some of the prisoners as a gesture of good faith then their families will be grateful."

"You want me to give the Skaikru more able bodied warriors?" Lexa scoffed.

"A few prisoners won't make a difference in the grand scheme of things but the diplomatic gains are priceless. The other parents who have not yet been reunited with their children will pressure the leaders of the Ark to negotiate. Once they are all returned they will be hesitant to sacrifice them so readily again."

Lexa pondered what Clarke had said for a moment. "If we pursue this strategy, how would we make it work?"

Clarke's eyes were alive as she sat back down, Lexa could tell she was already well into planning out how to make the negotiations work. "I would need to see the prisoners first. We can see who survived and make a list of who would be willing to be repatriated. Once we know who we can return to the Ark we just have to figure out a way to make contact with the Ark. Who leads the Ark now?"

"The matter of leadership is in dispute at the moment. The previous leader, Jaha, was recently deposed. Our scouts indicated it was fatigue with the ongoing war and Jaha's belief in a place called the City of Light. We observed him and a group of Skaikru leaving their fortress several weeks ago." Lexa explained. "We suspect that political infighting has broken out within the Skaikru and that a man named Pike is poised to take control of the government."

"I'm not going to ask how you know all this or if there's a connection between your sudden desire to make peace and the political turmoil within the Ark." Clarke said coolly. "You had better hope that Pike doesn't come to power in the Ark."

"Why?"

"He believes in something called manifest destiny. Basically that the Earth belongs to the people of the Ark and no-one else. I very much doubt he has allowed reality to cloud his view of the world." Clarke answered bitterly. "Many of the Skaikru also subscribed to that view."

"Then they are fools." Lexa was unable to stop herself from condemning them.

"Perhaps, but fools are often more dangerous than sane people. They can't be reasoned with, they have an unshakeable belief in their cause, and they won't be satisfied until they win." It was almost as though Clarke was speaking from personal experience.

"Then we must reach out to the moderates and exclude Pike before it's too late. We will leave for Tondisi in three days. I must make preparations to ensure that the council is taken care of in my absence." Lexa reasoned.

"And what about me?" Clarke asked.

"Gustus!" Lexa shouted in the direction of the door.

Her faithful bodyguard was standing before them moments later. He seemed to be sizing up Clarke as a potential threat while, for her part, Clarke was giving him a suspicious look. "Yes Heda?"

"Gustus, arrange quarters for Clarke." Lexa ordered.

"Sha, Heda." Gustus replied with a slight smirk.

"Goodnight Heda." Clarke sighed as she rose from her seat opposite Lexa.

As they were leaving Lexa couldn't resist spoiling Gustus' fun. She knew what his smirk meant. "Oh and Gustus, nice quarters."

Gustus was less than enthusiastic when he nodded his assent and gave Clarke a rather forceful poke to get her moving. Clarke shot him a death glare as they left the room. As the doors closed Lexa let a soft chuckle escape her lips at the combative relationship between Gustus and Clarke.

Without the pressure of having her every move watched she stretched and groaned. She had not slept in what felt like days. Picking her way to her bed she stripped quickly out of her armour and flopped onto the bed with a weary sigh. She was asleep moments later.

Lexa was standing in the middle of the farmers' fields outside Arkadia. The sky was a deep blood red as smoke from dozens of small fires wound its way into the sky. The battlefield reeked of the smoke and she felt as though she could barely breathe. All around her, her warriors engaged the Skaikru guardsmen in hand to hand combat. As she looked up the round wheel section of the Ark that had rammed itself into the ground during the fall was wreathed in fire like some unholy icon in the night sky. As Lexa watched a group of guards armed with rifles came running towards them. There were shouts of dismay from her warriors as some were gunned down ruthlessly. Staring down the barrels of the rifles Lexa was certain that she was watching the end of her people at the hands of the Skaikru.

The Skaikru guards paused for a moment as though they heard something. A distant rumble like the sound of thunder rolled through the battle. It was rhythmic and repeated like a drum beat but unlike a drumbeat it seemed to resonate through the ground. With each passing second the beat grew louder until Lexa recognized it for what it was – the hoofbeats of dozens of horses. As Lexa turned she could see a small forest of steel tipped lances advancing towards her, their owners hidden behind a small rise. Each lance carried a small banner but the larger ensign was what caught her eye – a brilliant white sun on a night sky. The banner was unlike any she had seen before. She scarcely had any time to reflect on this as the first lancers crested the rise and emerged into full view. The lancers were dressed all in black their faces covered by exquisitely cast masks that seemed almost demonic. The lancers themselves were bulky under their layers of armour and their horses were similarly armoured.

A flash of light caught her eye and for the first time Lexa noticed the leader of the host of hell-spawned lancers. She was dressed similar to her soldiers but unlike her men she wore a bright white cloak that billowed in the wind behind her. Her blonde hair was woven into her crown like the rays of a golden sun. She brandished her sword high above her as she urged her soldiers onwards. It was at that moment that Lexa realized that the leader of the lancers was none other than Clarke, her one time prisoner. Like some sort of avatar of Mars she rode down towards the melee before her and for a moment Lexa thought that she was riding in to attack the Trikru but then the strangest thing happened. At a sharp command the lancers wheeled around the main melee and rode hard for the gun armed Skaikru. Lowering their lances the formation closed ranks as it barreled towards the Skaikru. The Skaikru guard panicked and scattered before the formation of terrifying horsemen making them easy prey. With the Skaikru dispersed Clarke wheeled her horse around to confront Lexa.

Lexa woke up in a cold sweat just as she made eye contact with the dream Clarke. The vision had been so real that she could still smell the harsh smoke of the battlefield. She had never been so sure that the vision had been of the future in her life but what could it mean?

A/N - A special shout out to Summer Storm War for their kind review. While Clarke is a badass I think at the end of the day Lexa will always be the better fighter. Clarke relies more on guile and cunning to win as opposed to brute force as epitomized by her choice of a long rifle rather than a sword as a weapon. More reviews are always appreciated.


	6. Chapter V - Polis

Chapter V – Polis

Clarke awoke with a yawn to find the late morning light greeting her. After being dragged around the wilderness of post-apocalyptic Maryland for several days without rest save for her light nap in Lexa's arms she had been asleep before her head hit the pillow. Throwing off the furs that made up her covers Clarke took in her quarters. Gustus had set her up with a rather compact but still quite habitable room within the tower containing a bed, chairs and a closet. It was far from being the worst set of quarters Clarke had ever inhabited – the Sky box still held that honour – but it was a far cry from the opulence Lexa's quarters.

At some point during the night someone had left a bundle of clothes for her to change into. Clarke quickly sorted through what she had been given before selecting a clean undershirt, a light homespun sweater and a pair of dark pants. Throwing on the overcoat Lexa had given her last night she considered herself in the mirror. A set of dark rings had asserted themselves under her eyes and her hair was a mess. She had left most of it unbraided on her birthday and had never had much of an opportunity to reorganize her coiffure. Braids were a point of pride even within the Ship Clan's relatively enlightened ranks and were used to denote success in battle, momentous occasions and even loss. Clarke traditionally wore a pair of black braids in memory of her fellow prisoners and her mother along with a quartet of red braids representing her successes as an Outrider. The process of plaiting the braids and then weaving them into the rest of her hairstyle was long work and Clarke doubted she had the time to do it this morning so she settled for her typical sniper's hairstyle – a utilitarian ponytail bound up with a piece of red string to keep it out of her eyes.

Stepping out of her room she was surprised to find that she was unguarded although she realized that it made little enough difference since she hadn't any idea of how to leave the tower. After asking a guard that was ambling down the hallway the opposite way she had an idea of the way to the stairs. Several dozen flights later she was at the exit to Polis proper. Stepping outside she was greeted with the shouts and cries of playing children, market vendors, and generally cheerful grounder civilians. Clarke was taken aback, she was so used to seeing the fearsome warriors of the Trikru or the dour villagers that inhabited the Southern reaches that she had forgotten that smiling and being a member of the Woods Clan weren't mutually exclusive. Taking a deep breath she inhaled the scents of fresh bread, meat and spices that wafted through the air. It almost reminded her of the markets of Norfolk. Forcing down a tiny stab of homesickness for her adopted home, Clarke set off to find some breakfast.

She was eventually able to find the open air mess hall that was given over to the guard and was quite surprised when they served her without question. Then she remembered that the Heda's badge of office – her ball and chain tying her to Lexa, at least for the moment – was securely affixed to her overcoat. She had just started digging into her bowl of oatmeal and cinnamon when one of the Trikru warriors sat down opposite her with a sigh. Clarke sized up the man seated opposite her trying to determine the reason why he had invaded her privacy. He was of medium build sporting the same thick brown hair and brown beard that most of the grounder warriors had. All in all, for a warrior, he was almost non-descript.

"Welcome to Polis, Clarke." He addressed her.

"How do you know my name?" Clarke asked suspiciously.

"We have a friend in common."

 _The opening code phrase_. Clarke realized.

"Oh, is she blue?" Clarke responded.

"At the moment she's quite red." Her contact replied giving the appropriate countersign.

"What the hell is the Ship Clan agent doing embedded in the middle of the Wood's clan's warriors?" Clarke hissed trying to avoid drawing attention herself.

"Classified." The contact replied simply. "There is a general goods store down the road. Go in. Ask for a drawing pad. You won't see me again."

With that he rose and left leaving Clarke halfway to perplexed. Her tradecraft kicked in a moment later to remind her to look normal and so she went back to pensively eating her breakfast. As soon as she finished she rose casually and ambled down the street. Noting the building her contact had identified she ambled by it nonchalantly and browsed a nearby market stall selling the traditionally reconditioned Trikru attire. Periodically looking around her she soon became convinced that she wasn't being tailed though her every instinct warned her that Lexa would never be so cavalier about letting her wander unaccompanied.

Retracing her steps she entered the general goods store. The shop was mostly empty, a woods clan civilian was sifting through a bin full of old fasteners looking for something to repair her coat with. The shopkeeper sat behind a counter studying an old book through a cracked magnifying glass. The store itself was rather gloomy, it's dusty shelves of old world knickknacks illuminated only by a few glassless windows. Clarke made her way to the counter and did her best to look casual. The shopkeeper looked up at her owlishly.

"I was wondering if you could help me find something. Would you happen to have a drawing pad?"

The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed as he considered her and then the red cloak before returning his gaze to her face. "I believe I may have something in the backroom. Perhaps you'd like to come with me?"

Clarke followed the shopkeeper as he led the way into the backrooms of the store. If it was even possible the backrooms were even gloomier than the front of the store. Eventually he stopped outside an open door and gestured for her to enter. Clarke went in and was hardly surprised when the shopkeeper closed the door behind her. She heard the bolt slide home and his retreating footsteps as he returned to the shop front. The room itself was an old store room with its walls lined with empty shelves and the centre of the room dominated by a single table. It was illuminated only by a set of narrow skylights which provided only a patchy illumination. A hooded figure sat at the table her faced shrouded in shadows. Clarke waited for the other woman to make the first move.

"Not very smart getting captured in your own home Clarke." The other woman said as she casually struck a match and lit the single candle that sat on the table between them. As the candle caught she blew out the match and with her opposite hand pulled back her hood.

It took a moment for Clarke to recognize exactly who it was she was standing opposite before instinct took over and she snapped to attention. "My lady."

Mara rose from the table opposite Clarke and let out a deep, husky laugh. "Oh come now Clarke, I may be the Miral of the Ship Clan but that doesn't give you leave to address me as such. Come and sit with me sister."

Clarke sat down cautiously opposite the Ship Clan commander. It had been over a year since they had seen each other and it was never far from Clarke's mind that she owed much to Mara. It had also been a long standing source of confusion for her that Mara had taken such a personal interest in Clarke's assimilation into the society of the Ship Clan. Mara herself had publicly acknowledge Clarke as her 'sister' which was a euphemistic term to indicate that Clarke was one of Mara's chosen successors though by no means the only one. What it translated into for Clarke is that Mara had named herself Clarke's patron and expected her to follow the very set and predetermined path of five years of being an Outrider followed by two years of being an officer inside Norfolk. Following that she would have her pick of assignments until such a time that Mara would resign from her position or she died. At which point the council would pick the most worthy candidate from the ranks of Mara's 'brothers and sisters' to succeed her. The reason why Mara had expended so much effort into Clarke was still a source of mystery but she suspected it had something to with the undercurrent of superstition that ran through Ship Clan society coupled with the circumstances of Clarke's arrival on Earth. The whole business had left Clarke somewhat torn between being covertly suspicious of Mara and in awe of the other woman. One thing that was never in doubt was her loyalty – until now.

"So Clarke it seems you've had a busy couple of days." Mara said jokingly as she returned to her seat opposite Clarke.

"That would be a prize understatement." Clarke snorted as she catalogued the past several days in her mind. "Although, I get the impression that you already know the broad strokes."

"Deduction, very good. You are correct by the way and also by pure happenstance exactly where you are supposed to be. I sent Yana out to collect you from your safe house but when she arrived she found signs of a struggle as well as the traces of a Nightblood."

"Nightblood?"

"Your friend, the Heda, is one. Their blood is black hence the winsome moniker. Anyway, Yana set out after you and trailed you from a discreet distance. When you entered Polis she came to find me." Mara trailed off for a moment before eyeing Clarke. "Now perhaps you can tell me why I am here?"

Clarke sighed. Deductive logic games where one of Mara's favourite pastimes and she enjoyed subjecting many of her colleagues to them in an effort to 'get them to think strategically'. Clarke had to admit that it was a valuable exercise. "Yana was sent to bring me to Polis to meet with you. Judging by your presence here, incognito, you arrived to discuss a new assignment with me. Judging from the choice of location it involves the Twelve Clans. Beyond that I am at a loss."

"Very astute Clarke. I was here to discuss your new assignment with you – you were to take over operations for the area around Polis and to act as a more overt rather than covert presence for the Ship Clan."

"I don't understand. You want me to be your ambassador to the Twelve Clans?"

"Precisely. Our last ambassador has been recalled to the capital and we needed someone to represent us and forge closer ties with the Woods Clan. After your work at Grey Harbour with the Boat Clan I believed that you would be the ideal candidate for the job."

"You mean the massacre of Grey Harbour." Clarke replied grimly. The mere mention of the name brought back memories of the burning village.

"You could hardly be held responsible for what happened to the people of the village after you left."

"I should have stayed."

"And done what? Died with the villagers? It was their choice to stay."

"I was the one that made them believe that they could hold the village." Clarke said quietly.

Mara stood and walked down the length of the table until she stood next to Clarke before sitting back down. "You did what you thought was right to help the people of that village. The messenger that you sent exposed the perfidy of the Ice Nation to the rest of the Coalition and forced them to withdraw their campaign against the Boat Clan. Your organized the defense of the village and your leadership made you a hero to the entirety of the Coalition even if they never knew your name."

"I asked to go unrecognized for a reason and now you want to dig that up for the political gain of the Clan?" Clarke snapped.

Mara grabbed Clarke by the shoulders and fixed her with a piercing stare. "Clarke, you cannot keep holding your ghosts so close to your heart. We all suffer loss and you've suffered more than your fair share but you have to recognize the good that you've done. You cannot save everyone Clarke but you can honour their sacrifices."

"I can honour their sacrifices by cynically exploiting them for political gain?"

"What better legacy could someone wish for than being remembered as helping to bring about an era of peace?"

"You want peace with the Coalition?"

"That's all we've ever wanted to be at peace with our neighbours. Trust does not come easy when your neighbours are a martial society fixed on internecine conflict."

"What's changed?"

"All our intelligence indicates that the Coalition is becoming war weary. The half century of war is starting to catch up with them."

Clarke laughed. "You couldn't be more wrong."

"что?" Mara exclaimed reverting into the common tongue of the Ship Clan.

"Oh yes. The Coalition has suffered several major defeats at the hands the Arkers – my people, Mara." Clarke's anger bubbled to the surface as she prepared to confront her mentor. "They're still alive."

Several different emotions seemed to play across Mara's face as she recoiled from Clarke. "What do you mean alive?"

"As in they didn't burn up on re-entry. Even some of the delinquents survived as slaves to the Coalition. The real question is how long have you known?"

"We had no idea."

"How can you not have known? We have eyes everywhere. We even have agents here in Polis."

Mara sighed. "Yes I knew that we had found parts of the Ark in the lands far to the North of Mt. Weather but they were all deserted or graves. I went out of my way to suppress this information for your sake Clarke."

Just as Clarke was poised to explode into recriminations her anger dissipated. She realized that Mara had only done what she had thought was best for her. "So long as I have your word that you knew nothing of the Arkers being alive then I can accept that."

"Consider it given Clarke." Mara said. "The Coalition has integrated your people into their society well. What really concerns me is the fact that we missed your people's new home completely."

"Oh that's not too hard to explain. Do you have a map?" Clarke asked her voice evening out as she focussed her attention on the problem.

Mara walked back to her seat and rooted around in the bag she had hidden by the table. To the Ship Clan maps were power and to be without a means of recording observations when away from Norfolk was almost criminal. Half of Clarke's role when she wasn't on a mission was simply to engage in surveying work for the cartographers back in Norfolk. Mara returned to Clarke's seat and unfolded a map of the area in front of both of them.

Clarke took the proffered pencil and proceeded to get her bearings on the map. "If we start from the premise that they landed inside the Mt. Weather exclusion zone and that they came in on a ballistic trajectory then they likely landed here." Clarke marked a location on the map to the south west of the Mountain.

Mara nodded pensively as she considered the map. "That seems like a reasonable inference. Since none of our Outriders venture into the exclusion zone out of the danger from the acid fog and those berserk tribals it would be possible for your people to hide there effectively. But it doesn't explain how they've survived."

"That's a mystery that if the Heda knows the answer to then she isn't telling. All she confided in me is that they're a thorn in her side and that she wants me to patch up relations with them."

Clarke could see the wheels turning in Mara's head as she processed the new intelligence. "Then our course of action is clear. You will stay the course with the Heda and try to mend relations between the Coalition and the Arkers. Once that is done you'll be able to return to your people."

 _But are they still my people?_ Clarke asked herself.

"What if I don't want to go back to them?"

"You've wanted to see them again ever since you landed. What could possess you to say such a thing?" Mara asked as though perplexed.

"I don't know." Clarke replied shaking her head doubtfully. "I'm just not sure that I'd fit in anymore. Three years is a long time."

"Doubts are natural." Mara counselled. "It's important to determine whether or not they are simply your fears or something more. The only way to satisfy them is to get more information which means you're going to have to keep working with Lexa."

A/N - Thanks for all the reviews! In other news I have to say that the characterization of Luna was infuriating, talk about a chronic case of burying your head in the sand. If Luna does make an appearance in this story you can expect her to be significantly different (less bullheadly stupid).


	7. Chapter VI - Betrayal

A/N - I've taken a bit of a creative liberty with Polis' location and situated in the location of present day Annapolis, Maryland.

Chapter V – Betrayal

Lexa hummed tunelessly to herself as she stood watching the general goods store. It had been almost twenty minutes since Clarke had gone in and she knew that despite Clarke's attempts at feigning innocence there was something more going on. It was always wheels within wheels and plans within plans when it came to the Tseekru and Clarke was doing a good a job of living up to the stereotype.

That morning one of Lexa's guards had come to her as she was having breakfast to let her know that Clarke had left the tower. She had been halfway curious to see what Clarke would do with her illusion of freedom and had almost been disappointed when the guard reported that she had made a beeline for the mess hall. The next report of one of her own warriors joining Clarke for breakfast had been interesting enough for Lexa to throw on some neutral coloured clothing and head out into Polis proper. When she had arrived one of her warriors had reported that Clarke had gone into the general goods store despite walking by it and being overly aware of her surroundings. Now Lexa and several of her guard were staking out the store just to see what would emerge.

Clarke left the store first carrying a cloth bag and headed back towards the tower. Slowly one of Lexa's guards detached himself from the wall that he had been supporting and casually ambled off after her. Lexa was more curious to see who Clarke's contact would be. The next person to leave the store was an elderly shopkeeper who kept a small market stall in the main market. Lexa knew the shopkeeper and he had been a fixture in Polis for his entire life – hardly a likely candidate for a spymaster. The next departure was a tall woman dressed in a grey cloak. Her hair was closely wrapped up in a grey scarf but a few strands of red hair escaped from the scarf. She glanced around her before setting out at a determined pace towards the dock. Lexa motioned for her guards to follow her as they prepared to shadow the redhead.

They caught up with her just at the top the wharf leading down to the pier. Several Floudonkru fishers were working at their boats but it was the long boat full of Tseekru sailors and the quartet of black clad soldiers that drew Lexa's attention. She could almost feel the relief exuding from the redhead as she made her way towards the boat. Too late did the redhead realize that Lexa and her men where upon her. Lexa grabbed her by the arm to arrest her progress to the launch. The redhead turned towards her and her expression shifted quickly from confusion to anger until it settled into a neutral mask – one that Lexa was very familiar with having used it herself many times.

"Can I help you?" The redhead asked.

"Indeed you can." Lexa replied firmly, still keeping a tight grip on the other woman's bicep. "You can tell me what you and Clarke were discussing."

A flicker of recognition slipped across the other woman's features before her mask slipped back into place but it was all that Lexa needed to see to know that she had the right person. "I'm sorry, who?"

"Come now, acting coy doesn't suit you." Lexa chided before giving the woman's arm a meaningful squeeze.

"Heda." One of the guards interrupted. Lexa glanced over at him and quickly followed his gaze towards the guards by the launch. They were slowly and very menacingly advancing up the pier with drawn swords. The redhead also followed her gaze and glanced back and forth between Lexa's guards and her own men. A swift shake of her head brought the guards to a halt.

"Very well Lexa." The redhead said dropping the pretence of innocence. "What do you want?"

"For you to answer some questions. A great many questions."

"You are going to let me go." The redhead answered simply.

"And why is that?" Lexa scoffed.

"Because the captain of the _Borealis's_ standing orders are that if I do not return to the ship by mid-afternoon then he is to bring the ship into range and bombard Polis."

Lexa glanced at the woman before glancing back at the soldiers on the pier but it was already too late. The soldiers had re-boarded the launch and the sailors were pulling hard for open water. As Lexa watched a flare climbed out of the launch into the morning sky. Moments later an answering flare flew into the sky from a nearby island. Lexa traced the flare's origin down to the island and she watched the some of the trees seemed to sprout massive squares of white canvas.

"I'd say that you have about an hour before she enters firing range." The redhead supplied. "Then you may have about four or five more before the captain opens fire."

Lexa turned back to the redhead. "If he opens fire then you will die first."

"If he opens fire then the Coalition and the Tseekru will be at war – a war that you cannot win." The redhead predicted ominously.

"Sis em op." Lexa ordered as she released the redhead. Her guards complied and hustled the redhead off to the tower. Lexa grimly considered the squares of canvas as they began to move around the island.

Upon returning to the tower Lexa left her new guest under strict guard before setting off to find Clarke. One way or another she would have answers from the Skai girl. In the end she found Clarke in the practice yard behind the tower going through her katas with a dull practice sword. Stepping into the shadows Lexa took the opportunity to watch the other woman go through a few practice thrusts and withdrawals. Clarke was surprisingly adept with the sword despite being shorter and more compact than Lexa. As she watched Clarke move she observed a certain economy of movement in her attacks, while not graceless there was functional element to her movement indicating to Lexa that Clarke's martial talents likely lay with her rifle and not her sword. Lexa suddenly realized that this was perhaps the first time she had been able to get a good look at Clarke despite all they had been through.

As though able to sense to sense someone watching her Clarke paused mid thrust and straightened up to scan her surroundings. There was a cautiousness that was not born of nervousness or fear about her gaze. As Clarke's gaze met Lexa's she realized that there was a pragmatism about the Skai girl. She sized up her surroundings not simply looking for threats or targets but with an eye towards determining where everything around her fit and how it interacted with the other components around it. Judging from her look it seemed as though she had yet to make up her mind about Lexa.

"Heda."

"Clarke."

"Care to join me?" Clarke asked making an inviting gesture with the practice machete that she had been using.

Lexa ambled over and picked up a practice blade of her own before entering the practice yard with Clarke. As the two stood facing each other Clarke broke the silence again. "I take it you're here to talk about something."

Lexa studied Clarke but the other woman was giving nothing away her eyes were scanning Lexa for the telltale signs of an impending attack. "You could say that. I wanted to know how your morning was."

"An awfully domestic question to ask one of your servants." Clarke interrupted Lexa's reply with an exploratory thrust which Lexa easily avoided.

"Is that how you see yourself?" Lexa advanced cautiously on Clarke forcing her to give ground.

"It is what I am." Clarke deflected Lexa's attack and used her momentum to neatly sidestep Lexa, inverting their positions.

"I'd hardly describe you as such given the un-paralleled amount of freedom you have." Lexa carefully deflected the series of probing slashes that Clarke launched at her defenses before counter attacking with a swipe of her own. Clarke hissed in pain as she flexed the now bloodied knuckles of her left hand.

Backing away, Lexa could see Clarke sizing her up again.

"If you must know Lexa I went and got some breakfast and some drawing supplies before coming here to practice. After all a blade goes dull if she isn't honed." Clarke quoted as she circled Lexa warily.

"Words to live by." Lexa ground out as she as she used a rising cut to try and disarm Clarke but the Skai girl had anticipated the attack and neatly withdrew out of the way.

"I get the impression that there's something else going on here Lexa." Clarke concluded as she continued to circle Lexa.

"So you're sure that was all you did this morning?" Lexa asked as she advanced towards Clarke.

"Well I did have a rather in depth discussion with the leader of the Ship Clan in the general goods store." Clarke replied simply. Taking advantage of Lexa's shock she almost casually batted Lexa's sword out of her hand.

"Not the response you were expecting?" Clarke asked with a smirk written across her face.

Lexa was not one to lose and Clarke was so smugly confident in the fact that she had won that she never saw Lexa's next attack coming. Batting Clarke's sword out of the loose one handed grip she had been holding it in she drove her elbow into Clarke's face sending her down into the sand with a dull thump. Lexa nimbly climbed astride her defeated foe who looked up at her with a dazed expression.

"Not the response you were expecting Clarke?" Lexa asked, nonchalantly twisting Clarke's words against her.

Clarke groaned as she shifted underneath Lexa. "This is getting to be a habit for you Lexa."

Lexa lightly stood up and offered Clarke her hand which the defeated Skai girl took with a grumble.

"Now Clarke, I want you to tell me what it was that you and Mara discussed."

"How do you know her name?"

"Oh I know more than that, she is sitting in a cell back at the tower and if you value your life and hers then you had best be completely truthful with me." Lexa threatened.

Clarke's face paled at Lexa's revelation and she took Lexa's arm almost unconsciously. "Lexa, this isn't a road you want to go down. The only thing we discussed was what you wanted with me. There is no conspiracy against the Coalition at least not one involving the Tseekru."

Lexa shrugged off Clarke's hand irritably. "Your actions have called your loyalties into serious doubt Clarke."

"You expected me to renounce my loyalties to my Clan?" Clarke scoffed disbelievingly. "I wasn't aware loyalty to you and loyalty to the Ship Clan were mutually exclusive. If I had known that I would have taken the servitude option instead if it meant not betraying my people."

For a moment Lexa was almost proud of the Skai girl's defiance, loyalty to one's clan was highly prized amongst the Trikru and the courage to stand up for her principles was something that Lexa sympathized with. Lexa was careful not to let her feelings show as she responded to Clarke. "You are aware of how your actions looked."

"I am aware that you don't trust me Lexa." Clarke snapped back. "And while the feeling is mutual it doesn't mean we can't work together. If you need my word that I won't compromise my loyalty to you for the sake of my people then I give you that word."

"So if we interrogate Mara she will corroborate what you have said?" Lexa asked slyly.

"If you interrogate Mara then you're going to be facing a war on three fronts Lexa. Is that really what you want?" Clarke shot back. At Lexa's nettled look she pressed on. "Let me guess, as we speak a Tseekru warship is sitting in your harbour getting ready to bombard Polis?"

"Your people do not exactly inspire trust." Lexa spat back not enjoying the reminder that she was literally under the gun.

"Lexa, you cannot continue to act like a bully." Clarke's tone changed entirely from confrontation to placation. "The world around us is too harsh to be controlled by force of will alone. You need allies and the Tseekru can be allies."

"Do not think I am blind to what you are doing Clarke."

"And what am I doing?"

"Advancing your people's interests at the cost of our own."

Clarke threw up her hands in disgust and turned away from Lexa. "If you cannot see reason then there is no hope for you Lexa."

Lexa stood there unwilling to give ground to the Skai girl but at the same time confronting the unfortunate truth that Clarke was right. Unfortunately, she had dug herself too deeply into her predicament and could no longer see a way out of it. Surrender and compromise was simply not in her nature but in the end nature would have to bend to reality.

"Clarke." Lexa tried. "I will release Mara."

Clarke turned to confront Lexa.

"She will remove her spies amongst my people as a gesture of good faith. Once I am satisfied then we may open formal discussions about a lasting peace between our peoples. Allies, even potential allies, do not spy on one another do they Clarke?"

Clarke seemed to deflate slightly in relief. "You speak the truth Heda."

"You may inform Mara of my decision." Lexa said dismissively.

Clarke studied her for a moment before starting to leave the practice yard but Lexa caught her arm as she moved to leave. Lexa caught her gaze for a moment. "I am glad that you trusted me enough to divulge the truth of what you did this morning."

Clarke looked at her in surprise for a moment before she turned to proceed on her way leaving Lexa standing alone in the practice yard.

A/N - Well the last episode was again quite disappointing. Ontari got a really rough handling and wound up being one of the most underutilized characters in the show. Allie has also been a disappointment since she hardly seems particularly smart about what she's doing(she chronically bungled her analysis of Clarke which was completely unforgivable writing). Frankly really lazy writing in general given that Clarke and co. just kind of lurch from one failure to another. What made the last season great was that there was a huge amount of preparation and planning that led up to a winning strategy which was turned into certain defeat and then turned back into a victory through sheer ruthlessness on Clarke's part. I hope they can the existing writing staff and bring in some new blood.


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